Sayuri
by D.Z.Iraigoz
Summary: Sayuri has spent most of her life at sea...so why does a certain young Prince come looking for her?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own Avatar, or any of the characters in the series. I do, however, own Sayuri, biznitches.

So, this one's short, just to get started – the next few chapters won't be coming out for a while - so, do return…just…not for a while.

Chapter 1:

A salty breeze blew across a young girl's face. She hardly noticed as the bitter grains swept through her long brown hair, having become familiar with the sea's companion. Looking out from her post high in the air, the ocean remained undisturbed by any manmade devices – leaving nature to its own course. It would have been peaceful, if not for the uproar of deep voices from the main deck. But the girl didn't wish for peace and serenity – the familiar voices were comforting and reassuring, and she was grateful for that.

"Sayuri!" called one of the voices. The girl looked over the edge of her washtub-like post at an aged man, his eyes squinting from the blazing sun. "Grub's on! Come on down!" Sayuri looked down at the floor of her post to see her shadow was practically nonexistent, but she had no desire to leave quite yet. She didn't want to climb down the mast into a dark, smelly room – she preferred to have a few more moments of fresh sea air before she descended.

"I'll be right down!" She shouted back, holding onto the mast as she sat on the edge of her lookout post.

Sayuri didn't know where she had come from before these pirates had taken her in. For as long as she could remember, she had been an orphan wandering from village to village, surviving on whatever she could get away with stealing…Until one hot summer day…

Sayuri had been gazing out at the sea while reminiscing, but her thoughts were broken by a disturbance in the distance. She squinted…Yes, there was definitely something out there: it was small and black, with large amounts of smoke pouring out – almost impossible to see with the naked eye. She picked up the telescope near her bare foot and looked through the lens – the view became much clearer, and she could easily make out the pointed bow and thick metal plating that decorate the ship. Her pulse quickened slightly as she put the telescope down and leaned over the edge of her post once again and cleared her throat as she felt it tighten. No one was on deck.

_They must have all gone in for lunch_, she thought. Sayuri quickly maneuvered herself down the rope ladder attached to the mast, pausing as a strong gust disturbed the flimsy rope. Her bare foot barley touched the wooden deck before she started off in a sprint toward the galley. She took one last look off the port side to see that her black dot had grown slightly.

_They've seen us._

Sayuri swung the galley's heavy door open – spilling light into a small room, accenting ten familiar faces, leaving the remaining ones in shadow. They looked towards the door almost in sync, eyes squinted and heads cocked awkwardly. Sayuri's eyes had barely adjusted when she heard herself being welcomed.

"Eh, lassie, better sit down – everything'll be gone soo." Sayuri was still out of breath as the middle-aged man addressed her, and as he finished, his eyes narrowed slightly, waiting for a response to come from her troubled expression.

"Captain," she panted, "we've got company."


	2. Chapter 2

I've reread these – they have much fewer errors now.

Enjoy.

They reached the port side of the ship, from which the foreign vessel could more easily be seen. Captain Zan looked out toward it, with Sayuri on his right and the rest of the crew surrounding them.

"Sayuri," Captain Zan's gruff voice cut through the new-found tension like a knife through butter, "can you make out the sign on the chimney?"

Of course she was able to – she had been able to see it very clearly since they had come out on the deck – but she didn't want to say. Revealing to everyone the widely feared insignia would only make the fear real; and she could already feel her heart pounding in her throat. But the ship was approaching them fast – and it would be better know sooner rather than later.

"It's the Fire Nation symbol, sir," Sayuri found her self saying, despite the overwhelming tightness in her throat. _Please not now, _she thought. _Not here. Not now._

Captain Zan calmly stepped away from the railing, with the far-away look he always wore when he was thinking. The crew waited for his orders in almost complete silence – the crashing waves against the sides of their ship were the only things audible to break it.

After what seemed like hours, Zan spoke: "Sayuri – crow's nest. Sen, Jo and Doru – get at those sails, Pako –" his orders were interrupted by the sudden presence of a bright red, half reptile bird, which didn't even stop flying as it dropped a rolled up piece of parchment in front of him and flew away. The parchment had been sealed with the Fire Nation insignia, which Zan roughly broke open. He scanned the letter, his eyes darting quickly across the page. He let out a heavy sigh – so heavy it could have been mistaken for defeat. He looked out toward the ship which had grown larger in the few minutes they had used up. He then looked to Sayuri, whose eyes had been scurrying from the ship to her captain and back again – whose eyes now housed a hint of worry for what her captain had read in that letter.

"Sen, lower the anchor," he finally ordered. "The rest of you, be prepared for anything – we're taking in some guests." The crew, slightly confused, began to disperse when Zan called Sayuri over to him. "Lassie, I don't want you around when we receive these men…I want you to stay in your cabin, and I don't want to see you out of there until I come for you. Understand?"

Sayuri narrowed her eyes at this – still curious as to what was going on. "Captain, what do –"

"Understand?" he said more forcefully. Taken slightly aback at his suddenly harsher tone – one that showed he wasn't in the mood for hesitation or questioning – Sayuri merely nodded. She watched her captain walk away to the side where the deep blue ocean remained undisturbed; except for the waves in the distance the pirate ship had created only moments ago.

Sayuri turned toward the door which led to the cabins below deck when she felt something crinkle underneath her bare foot. Looking down, she realized that she had stepped on a piece of paper. She picked it up, and recognized the Fire Nation insignia which had been stamped onto the letter – the one which had made her captain change his orders. Shoving it in her pocket, she ran down the dark stairway and through the dimly lit hallway to her room.

Sayuri opened her door, fumbled in the dark for her box of matches, and lit the candle near the door. Closing it, she proceeded to light the few other candles which gave her room just enough dim light to see where she was going. Sayuri looked around her familiar room, her eyes resting on her single cot, neatly made up with sheets and a simple light green blanket, on which she moved to lay down. Next to her bed was a small dresser, where she kept her clothes, some money, and more candles. The room was only a foot or two longer in length, width, and height that herself; but it was Sayuri's private sanctuary where she could relax without being seen or talked to, without being needed – where she could just be.

Turning over on her side, as if to take a nap, she felt the letter, momentarily forgotten, crinkle in her pocket. She reached in and pulled it out, struggling to decipher the handwriting in the dim light:

_Prince Zuko, heir to the throne of the Fire Nation, requests to board your ship._

_No harm will come to your crew as long as you meet his requests._

_Resistance is futile. If you try to flee, your ship will be torched and your crew will be taken into the custody of the Fire Nation._

Sayuri closed her eyes in defeat, knowing she had been found. She folded the letter in half, stood up, and put it safely in the top drawer of her dresser. She watched the candles on the top of it – the flames grew slightly and flickered, but there was no breeze in her room.

She remained looking at the candles with her arms folded even as she heard heavy footsteps approaching her room; even as the door burst open and two large men clad in red and black armor seized her, dragging her out. She only began to realize what was happening when she could no longer see the small flames which lit her sanctuary – having been extinguished by the warm breeze coming through the open door.


	3. Chapter 3

Went over this one as well…

Chapter 3

The bright sunlight made Sayuri squint her eyes and irritate her more. She kicked and struggled to free herself from the grip of the soldiers holding her, but it was futile: they had lifted her off the ground and held her by her upper arms – which freed her legs for more kicking, except that she was still unable to twist to her side in an effort to connect with either of her captors. She could only watch helplessly as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight and the scene unfolding before her.

"She was in a cabin below deck, your highness," the soldier on her left said. The boy, whom he addressed, was just around Sayuri's age, with jet black hair neatly tied back into a ponytail, and sharp yellow eyes. Sayuri noticed a large red scar around his left eye, but wondered about it only for a second. Behind him stood a short old man with long grey hair, who looked very clam, as if he had been invited to afternoon tea. Sayuri looked to her captain, her eyes pleading for him to tell her what was going on, but he only looked back at her with a curious gaze of his own, as if she were supposed to understand what was happening.

As the young man began to approach her, his eye examined her: the girl he knew of only from the tales of oracles. She stood shorter than he did by a few inches, and her figure was well developed – well suited for her predestined purpose. He brushed her long brown hair, salty and tangled from the sea's winds, away from her face and found her bright green eyes glaring back at him from a pretty, if tan and dirty, face. The same eyes which had first seen him from miles away now stared into his own with a hatred he was not quite prepared for.

"Have you kept a maiden-head?" He asked her, ignorantly expecting a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer. Instead, the girl narrowed her eyes and spit in his face.

Zan grinned at the lassie's guts.

Wiping the spit off with his hand, his own eyes narrowed and he slapped her, forcing Sayuri into a rage, in which she went about lifting both her feet off the ground to kick the young lad while being restrained – if not supported – by the soldiers on either arm.

At this point Zan interfered, not wanting to the lassie to make a mistake she would regret. He stepped between the boy and Sayuri, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her while the older man drew the foreign boy back toward him. Zan told the soldiers to release her, but they only did so after receiving a nod from the lad behind the Captain. At the moment of her release, Sayuri launched herself at the boy, as if she planned to fight him there, but found herself held back by the strong arms of her captain, who had caught her as she lunged.

There was a tense silence on the ship, as the boy looked at Sayuri with a fierce expression – one which revealed that the thing he had come for would be more difficult to acquire than he had expected. Sayuri glared back at him, her eyes filled with a malice she had not felt in a long time: malice for this boy's finding her, and malice for her own carelessness at allowing herself to be so easily found. Zan looked at the lass he held back and the lad who had come for her, with only a vague concept of why the youth was here. The older alien man knew such a tension would lead them nowhere, and broke the silence with his kind and carefree voice.

"What do you say we all sit down for a nice cup of tea and talk things over? Shall we?"

Understanding what the man was trying to do, Zan followed: "That sounds like a good idea." He released Sayuri, who knew better at this point than to continue what she had intended moments ago and stayed put. Looking to her, he told the lass to make some tea, and then stepped forward so that he stood between her and foreigners, and bade them to follow him.

Sayuri stood still for a second as she watched Zan, the boy, and the older man walk across the deck to the galley. She was not the kind of girl who would sit idly by making tea for the men who discussed her, and she wouldn't act as that kind now. She ran across the deck to catch up, but Zan had heard her footsteps, and turned around to face her, giving her a look which said he was in no mood to be challenged and that she would obey him, if she knew what was good for her. Sayuri, still bearing a look of stubborn determination on her face, let them walk into the galley, watching the thick door – the same one she had opened just an hour earlier to warn the crew of an approaching ship – close.

Defeated, Sayuri retreated to the small room adjacent to the galley, where there was a small stove on which to boil water. She walked in to find Sen there, waiting for her. At her arrival, he leapt up from his chair and rushed over.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, cupping her chin in his hand and turning it so that he could see the part of her face where the visitor had struck her. "It doesn't look swollen," he said, not waiting for her to answer, "just a little red."

Sayuri brushed his hand away from her face and moved towards the stove. "I'm fine."

Sen was only six years older than her – the youngest on the vessel, after herself – which put him in a sort of older brother position – in this instance, making sure she hadn't been hurt.

Though grateful for Sen's company, Sayuri was in no mood to be babied – she just wanted to boil the stupid water and get into that room to hear what those men were saying.

She set about doing just that: putting the water on the stove to boil and running to the door which led directly to the galley, holding her ear as close as she could get it without making the door creak. She waited for a moment, listening. A moment later, however, Sayuri stood back from the door, defeated. Her mind was racing though all the possibilities of what could be going on, about what they could be talking, what decisions faced her captain…

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and she relaxed a little, comforted by Sen's company. And yet her eyes were still burning at the door, as if she believed could set fire to it by glaring at it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The men were seated at a small table: the Prince, with his hands on the table, opposite the Captain, who sat forward on his elbows. Between them, the General, who sat back in his chair with an observant look on his face. The Prince and the Captain stared at each other – the latter looking as if he were about to make a business deal; the former looking as if he had an utmost contempt for the man he just met.

"What are you doing here?" Zan finally asked, looking the young heir directly into his peculiar yellow eyes.

"I came for you lookout," he said simply. Zan waited for him to elaborate, but he realized that the Prince did not have that sort of character.

"Why?" he asked.

The Prince glanced at the Captain as quickly as he glanced away. "That's none of your business."

Zan narrowed his eyes. "It is my damn business what you want with my lookout, and unless you can give me a reason otherwise, we're done here," Zan pushed his chair back to stand up, but the Prince had already leapt up from his seat, and was leaning over the table – light smoke was coming from his nostrils, which reminded the Captain of an angry bull being teased by a matador.

"Zuko!" Came the angry, raspy voice of the General, who knew that a reminder of his presence would restrain the Prince from acting upon his anger. He was correct, for the youth returned to his seat while his uncle turned to the Captain. "Surely you must have noticed how your lookout is a very fine young woman, and that it would be impossible to keep her as a member of your crew for much longer." The General's good argument and naturally persuasive voice were beginning to have an effect upon the Captain. "She should be living as a normal young woman."

"You mean that I should marry her off," Zan concluded. "To who?" He gestured to the Prince.  
"Him?"

The General smiled, trying to be civil for his nephew's sake, who was angrily sitting and watching the two men, as a child watches a game he is forbidden from playing. "My nephew can offer her a life you would never be able to – not as a pirate."

"She's only fifteen," Zan protested, shaking his head. "I'm not about to marry her off at such a young age to a boy who doesn't look much older."

"How dare you speak to me like that," the lad spoke up, seething. "I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of Fire Lord Ozai, grandson of former Fire Lord Azulon – "

"I know exactly who you are," Zan cut him off, "_Your highness_. And it is all the more reason to deny you of your stupid request."

There was a pause, as the Prince was considering something. Zan sat there, watching him contemplate while the General silently wondered what could be taking the tea so long.

"If you won't give her…" the Prince began slowly, "…will you sell her?"

The Captain snorted. "I'm not in the slave trade."

It was then that the door swung open and Sayuri entered, carrying a tray on which an old ceramic teapot and three matching cups were precariously balanced. Only the Captain was positioned so that he faced away from her, but only Zuko remained staring at her as she placed a tea cup in front of each of them. Sayuri kept her eyes down.

Across from him, Sayuri filled her captain's cup with the steaming liquid, carefully holding the handle and the top of the pot as to not burn herself or spill any tea. Zuko continued to watch her as she poured the tea for his very pleased uncle, but even if she felt his eyes on her, he couldn't tell as she flawlessly began to pour his own cup.

"I can offer you three hundred gold pieces right now," the Prince said. Had he still been focused on Sayuri's tea-pouring, instead of turning to her captain, he would have noticed her hand shake slightly and miss the cup for just a second, as her eyes leapt to Zan to see his response. Yet his face remained as unchanging and unreadable as stone.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he said as Sayuri set the teapot down. The General, who had been gratefully sipping his tea, had noticed her.

"Please, sit down," he said, motioning to the empty seat across from him. Sayuri tried to keep her face expressionless, but the suspicion of the old man's invitation was too much for her to repress.

"I'll stand, thanks," she replied, moving to the wall behind her seated captain. As she passed, he gave her the same no-foolishness look he had worn once earlier that day as a warning. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, silent.

From her position Sayuri saw her captain's dark, dirty hair resting carelessly on the back of his head, the withered profile of the foreign General and the piercing yellow eyes which stared defiantly back at her suspicious ones. Despite the warning look she had just received, she couldn't help herself from asking the question which had plagued her mind since she first saw the feared insignia on the deck only moments ago (had it really been such a short time? It seemed like decades to her):

"How did you fine me?"

Zan's head snapped quickly to the side, so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. Sayuri glanced briefly at his irate, warning eyes, but her focus was drawn back to the Prince in front of her, with only her captain between them.

"Finding a young female lookout on a pirate ship is not hard," the Prince said to her in an unwavering, if slightly arrogant tone, "And even easier when the correct oracles are called upon." Sayuri slowly took in a deep breath at this to calm her newly increased pulse, but she kept her eyes with his, so as to outwardly show that she was not afraid.

"There are plenty of girls who would gladly marry a prince," Zan reasoned, his tone lower and more irritated. "Go to the nearest harbor, and I guarantee you'll find one much more…" he struggled with his phrasing, "…suitable for your tastes."

The Prince looked back at Sayuri and thought quickly. "Not any who are truly accustom to sea-life as your lookout is. I will not be returning home for a while and I don't need a weak-stomached companion."

Sayuri scoffed at his attempt to mask his true intentions. "Companion, you say?"

Zan's head tilted downward at a side angle, not looking at her. "Lassie," warned his deep, husky voice, almost growling at her. Sayuri drew back slightly, almost invisibly, knowing she would be in trouble later.

The young lad across the table witnessed the exchanged and caught Sayuri's reaction. "I'll go no higher than three hundred and fifty gold pieces," he said, looking straight at the girl. "That is my final offer."

"Get off my ship," Zan growled, his eyes shooting daggers in the young man's direction, and his voice dripping with disgust.

The General, wishing to avoid further conflict, stood up from the table and looked toward Zan amiably. "It is getting rather late," he explained, "We should be getting along back to our own ship. Prince Zuko?"

The addressed rose as well, and Sayuri moved to open the door for them – by this point she would have done anything to get these two out of her sight faster. But even as she refused to look in their direction, she could feel those yellow eyes gazing at her, and she was tempted, like an itch she forbid herself from scratching.

"I'll give you until dawn," he said simply, walking toward Sayuri more than to the door. He paused before stepping out, carefully studying her features as if Sayuri were a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. She stood there, silently seething, maintaining all her self control to not gouge out his eyes right there.

Pushing his nephew out, the General followed, smiling kindly at Sayuri. "Thank you for the tea. It was delicious."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

The main point of this story is yet to be understood, unless you're insightful enough to see these characters beyond what I've described so far (which you're really not supposed to yet, but if you do…well…then…the surprise is ruined).

Thus said, I don't appreciate flames. Flamers are pathetic bullies who have nothing better to do than put someone down. If you do flame me, however, which I'm sure some of you will be stupid enough to do, I will hunt you down, throw your own crap in your face, make you eat it, and do everything legal thing in my power to make your internet experience miserable.

If you find problems with my writing (and I mean structurally: grammar, spelling, word choice, etc.), I would very much appreciate this brought to my attention, politely. Just say: 'hey, you misspelled 'blahblahblah' when I think you mean 'blablabla'.'

Having been forewarned, enjoy.

Chapter 5

"You saucy little wench."

The door had barely been closed before he started on her.

"I –" she began, turning around to face her captain, who was much closer than he had been moments before.

"Shut up," he ordered, cutting her off. "How dare you disobey me like that? If you even humiliate me like that again, I'll give you a taste o' the cat you won't be likely to forget. Do you understand me?"

Sayuri suddenly felt very small, as Zan towered over her and shoved his calloused finger in her face. She nodded. "Yes, sir," she said meekly, felling sufficiently chastised and somewhat terrified.

Zan stepped back from her, took a deep breath through his nose, and held an angry gaze at her until she averted her eyes to the side. He turned his back to her, approaching the table and leaned over it as he exhaled deeply.

"Lucky for you I don't have the time to deal with you right now," he said, more to himself than to Sayuri. "We only have so many hours 'till dawn."

"What happens at dawn?" Sayuri asked, afraid of what he was planning.

Zan turned his head to face her. "Didn't you hear him, lassie?" His voice was tired, irritated, and held a sort of wonder. "Didn't you hear him offer to buy you? You think a spoiled prince is going to accept 'no' for an answer?"

Sayuri narrowed her eyes in concern. "What are you going to do?"

"We are going to fight back, lass." His tone had changed again: it was much lower now, more irritated, and more threatening. And she was scared. "We're gonna be fighting over you – and that is why you're not gonna be around when we do."

Sayuri's eyes lit up. "I'm not going to stand around and wait for you all to get killed!" Her voice had risen as well, her tone passionate and stubborn. Zan noticed this and faced her.

"Would you rather have us hand you over a like piece of meat?" He asked almost mockingly, accenting the last word.

"Rather than watch you catch the Black Spot? Yes!" She almost screamed. Her eyes were wide and pleading. "That's a Fire Navy ship he's got! He has an army of fire benders, and we have a rotting wooden ship! One blow could kill us all."

"I'm not about to hand you over to that bilge-sucking rat without a fight. You mean too much to just let go on his terms. No…" his voice dropped suddenly, "I won't allow it, do you hear me? I won't allow it."

Sayuri was frightened: His eyes were sharp and fierce, and it felt as if he were looking through her, rather than at her. It was as if he could see through her, through the door she stood in front of, through the iron of the Prince's ship, and right at him. "I won't let you die for this," she almost whispered.

Zan refocused his eyes at her, and replied matter-of-factly: "I don't need your permission, lassie."

She knew this, of course. He was the captain, after all. He was her captain. He was in charge of the ship, the crew, and her; and she knew this. She knew he had the power, authority, and respect enough to persuade (if not order) her fellow sailors to follow him.

Sayuri grew frustrated with her stubborn leader – much like a daughter would grow frustrated with her father. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that he was most like a father to her than anyone she had ever known.

To him, she was most like a daughter. His daughter. His stubborn daughter who was too young and naïve to know what was best for her. She was too ignorant to understand what this teenage boy was after – for that matter, what all men were after. He had had enough trouble threatening death upon his own men lest they even think to touch her – there was no possible way he could do that without her in his sight; there was, therefore, no option for her leaving with that boy.

"And what if I want to go?" Her question broke through his thoughts, violently thrusting him back into the moment.

He looked at her as if she had spoken in a foreign tongue. "You don't understand what you want, lassie."

"I understand completely," she began, her voice rising, becoming more confident. "I understand that I am not your slave. You don't barter in the slave trade, remember? I've earned my keep here for five years – I owe you no monetary debt." Her face was red from excitement, and she had almost no control over her pitch now. "My will is my own, and if it is from my own will that I leave, who are you to stop me?"

Sayuri was surprised at how hard and unforgiving the rotting wood could be as she was slammed against it, her long hair covering her now pink and stinging cheek. Her eyes were wide from the sudden impact, but looked at the old wooden floor near her feet.

Zan was near panting; his hand stung. "I am your captain, lassie." His voice was threateningly low – only heard by Sayuri once or twice. She didn't move, being too hurt and terrified of what was coming next. "When I took you aboard, you swore your undying loyalty and obedience to me and this ship. To leave now – to venture into a world unfamiliar to all of us, especially you, to abandon us as you claim your will is so eager to do – is treasonous, and I will not stand here and listen to you plan to betray me."

They both stood there for a long time in silence. Zan took slow, deep breaths audibly through his nose, glaring harshly at Sayuri, who remained motionless against the door. When she laughed softly – or was it a sob? – he was taken aback.

"My loyalty to you has never once faltered," she said, bringing her head up to meet his eyes. Her face was serious – more serious than her captain had ever seen. There was complete lack of fear as she looked right at him, and her voice was not the playful, ignorant, if arrogant and stubborn tone he knew so well, but one of confidence and maturity he had never heard. "But I've never been one to be obedient." Her eyes practically ripped through his own, and her now smooth voice calmed him somewhat. "And I can't start now. To obey you and stay would be the ultimate treason. You would all be slaughtered, and this vessel burned to ashes." She stepped toward him. "And then what hope would I have left? What chance of rescue could I look forward to?" Her eyes were visibly wet as she struggled to hold back tears. "How could I live with knowing you weren't? How could I hope for anything?"

Zan looked at her with a paternal sympathy, but cared for her too much, and was much too stubborn to back down. "It's took risky, lassie. I won't let you."

Sayuri kept her focus on his eyes, her face still stinging, and matched the familiar stubbornness in his voice with her own, thought still maintaining the tone he was unfamiliar with: "I won't let you stop me."


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry this took forever…but a lot of stuff is explained here. Chapter seven won't be up for a while, because school is about to start, and I still have to finish writing it, then writing it again, then rereading it, then rereading it again. So please be patient.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Chapter 6

Sayuri walked out of the galley, not bothering to look back at her captain, who was surprised, if somewhat proud of her nerve. The opened door and sound of footsteps drew the attention of the men, who had been idly singing and relaxing, relieved of responsibilities by an occupied captain. Now they looked as Sayuri passed, naturally curious as to what had happened in the galley.

Sayuri didn't look at them, but instead glanced at the Fire Nation ship beside her own. She was suddenly very angry, and she wasn't sure why. She hated the ship for being there, she hated the Prince for leading it there; she hated the water that brought it there, the skies for their prefect, cloudless blue, and she hated herself for her stupid curse.

Sayuri felt her muscles clench, and quickly ran to the door leading below deck. The stairs and hallway seemed to stream past her in a blur, and after she had reached her room, Sayuri leaned against the closed door, looking up at her damp ceiling.

_What am I doing?_

Sayuri looked around and realized she couldn't see anything. She felt rather foolish, and took to lighting the candles so that she could see. She breathed in the familiar aroma of burning wicks and damp wood, and went over to her small dresser, taking out a small black bag from the bottom drawer. Sayuri began to pack the few possessions of her person: the few pairs of pants and shirts, some money, and the extra candles in her top drawer. She considered for a moment blowing out the candles she had just lit and prepare for bed, but she decided against it – she wanted the flames to burn for as long as possible, even if it would be for only a few hours more.

Sayuri heard he door creek open, accompanied by a faint knock, recognizing Sen even before he had a chance to speak.

Sen peaked his head in: "Sayuri? Are you alri – " he began to ask, but was thrown off when he saw her standing over the half-packed bag. He took a step further into the room. "What are you doing?"

The room was so small that Sayuri needed to only turn around to be less than an inch away from him, but Sen really wasn't expecting her to, let alone embrace him just as quickly. He had known Sayuri for years, and he knew that she wasn't a very emotional person – she never reached out when she needed help the most, she had never asked for his support. He had never even known her to cry. And now, with this sudden break in her character, she had finally reached out and wordlessly begged him for his company – No, he realized. She had reached out for _him_ and all the help and comfort he had to offer.

With this, he knew that something was desperately wrong.

Sen reached down and returned Sayuri's embrace, once arm wrapping around her shoulders while the other hand gently stroked her hair. He still wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, though he knew that it had to be something about their visitors and what had gone on in the galley. A few moments had passed in silence, before it was finally broken: "Sayuri – "

"He hit me." She cut him off.

"I know," he said, referring to the earlier encounter with the Prince on deck. "I was there – "

"No." She cut him off again. "Zan hit me."

Sen took a step away from Sayuri, a new surprise engulfing him. Their captain had never struck Sayuri – not once. He had threatened to plenty, and she had even deserved it sometimes, sure – but no one on board really thought he would be able to bring himself to. Yet sure enough, when Sen looked down at Sayuri, there was no mistaking the large red mark on the left side of her face. Still, there was really nothing he could do about it.

Sayuri knew that. She let go of Sen and turned back to her black bag, and Sen returned to his earlier question.

"What are you doing?"

Sayuri paused, unsure of how to tell Sen what was happening. "I have to leave," she almost whispered.

Sen was beyond confused. "What?"

Sayuri paused her packing, but couldn't turn around to face him. "I'm leaving," she said with more volume, but even she could hear the unwillingness in her voice.

Sen couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Not…you're not leaving with – "

"I have to." She turned around at last and looked into his eyes. She didn't like how hurt they looked now, and she was slightly frightened by the anger in them. "I don't want to," she reasoned, "but I don't have a choice."

A tense silence hung between them for several minutes. Sayuri returned to packing, aware that Sen was glaring at her back. Being closer to him than anyone else on board, she would miss him the most. He had always been like a brother to her – ever since that hot day five years ago when he had saved her from petty justice…

Being closer to her than anyone else on board, she had hurt him the most. For Sen, Sayuri was the young, naïve little kid…and yet, now she wasn't so naïve, nor so childish as when he had first met her. She had grown in these past years, and he was really just noticing now. She had always been like blood to him; and he needed to protect her – from evil, from justice, from evil and just men – he needed to protect her just as he had always done, he needed to be sure she was happy, to be sure that she was healthy and well…how could he do that when he wouldn't even know where she was, or even why she was there?

That question was new to him. _Why?_ Why was she leaving him? Why hadn't he wondered that at first? It seemed so obvious now; he mentally kicked himself for being so thoughtless.

"Why?" His voice echoed his thoughts. He saw Sayuri flinch a little at the sudden presence of noise, but she recovered quickly. "Why are you leaving?"

He saw her shoulders rise and fall slowly from the deep breath she took. "Because a spoiled prince wants me to, and he'll kill you all if I don't."

Of course this raised a new question: "Why does he want _you_?"

Her breath before this answer was longer and deeper. "For my son."

Sen thought he had heard her wrong. "What?"

"For my first-born son," she repeated in a matter-of-fact tone that shocked him.

Sen had no idea what she was talking about. Her first-born son? Sayuri? And a child? She wasn't making any sense. "What do you mean?"

Sayuri sat down on her bed and looked at the floor. "Before I was born, a curse was place upon me that my first born son would grow to be the most powerful man in the world."

She was making even less sense now: "The Avatar is the most powerful man in the world," he rebutted, but Sayuri shook her head before he could even finish his sentence.

"No…" she said. She sounded exhausted. "The Avatar…" she seemed to struggle with this, "…is a spirit – an immortal spirit, reincarnated over and over again, not as man or woman, but merely…" she struggle again and flailed her arms, frustrated, "taking the form of one. The spirit never dies – only the shell that holds it." She gestured to herself, and brought eyes up from the ground, but could still not look at Sen. "I will bear a mortal. A powerful one, yes – but still a mortal."

Sen barely understood this. "More powerful than the Avatar?"

Sayuri returned her gaze to the floor. "I don't know. Probably not."

This all seemed rather farfetched to Sen. Curses? Spirits? Did she really expect him to believe this? He considered worrying about her sanity. "How do you exactly know about this…curse?"

He watched her shrug and shake her head. "I guess I always knew about it," she said, "But I never thought it was true." He could hear her knowledge of his disbelief in her now softer, yet more pressing tone – as if she were trying to convince him.

"How do you know this…curse is real?"

She looked at him, which an expression he couldn't very well read. "Our…" she said these words with unmistakable contempt, "…royal guest made it real." She paused for a moment, as if to collect her thoughts. "I lost my mother when I was too young for her to tell me, so I had dreams about it."

This was getting ridiculous. He almost scoffed. "Dreams?"

She had seen everything in those dreams. Given, the dreams were only one moment – its duration may have lasted merely seconds in reality, but they seemed to last forever for Sayuri.

There had been a woman, round with child, who was down on her knees, pleading with an older woman in front of her. The latter had spoken in a tongue Sayuri didn't recognize, and waved her arms in circular motions, which would have been hypnotizing in actual time. The old woman spoke in a rough squeak which had well suited her age, and told the pregnant woman that her own child would pay for her crimes. 'A curse for a crime', she had said.

And so it was done.

"It was more of a nightmare than a dream," she concluded.

Sen was still having trouble understanding the situation. "Why…" he fumbled with which question to ask her first. "Why is this a curse?"

Sauyri looked up at him again, frustrated that he didn't understand. She stood up and walked over to her dresser, staring at the fire that gave light to her room. "It's a curse, because I have no control over it." She closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to her furrowed brow. "Because any man can…" she seemed hesitant about explained the details, "…lay with me and get a son out of it. And I can't stop him." She didn't sound angry while saying this – which was what Sen expected – but rather defeated, almost helpless. "I don't know what my son will become – good or evil – I don't know what sort of power he will have, whether money, or strength, or position. I don't know…and I don't know who knows about this, or how much they know…" She brought her hand down to her side and rested it on her hip, looking young and defiant, just as she always had, but somehow more ragged and trouble than he was used to. "It makes me vulnerable."

It was what made her situation so terrifying to Sayuri: she hated being vulnerable – she was downright terrified of it. To be helpless and completely at the mercy of someone else…to have no control over herself…it made her weak, and left her unknowing of what would come next. It surprised her, and that, in turn, made her suspicious of everything. And it terrified her.

There was silence again as Sen tried to absorb everything at once. It all seemed ridiculous: spells and witches and curses and prophesies…it was all too absurd…wasn't it? Could Sayuri make this up? There was no way to prove what she said, was there? Sen wasn't sure what to think. Why else would a prince have bothered to search the seas for her? Surely there were other girls…what made Sayuri so special? Maybe there was a truth to what she said. She had never lied to him before…why was now any different?

He was getting rather uncomfortable with this. "So, this prince…he wants –?"

"Yes," she said, and he was grateful that he didn't have to complete his thought aloud.

She sure seemed serious. And she sounded pretty convincing. She had answers to everything.

"And Zan…is allowing this?"

"He doesn't know." She looked at him: Sen was the only person she had ever told – Zan, like most people, would have thought her to be crazy. But she trusted Sen to understand – if he couldn't, then who else would?

Sen wasn't really sure how he felt. By now, he seemed to believe her – at least, he was beginning to think that he did. It was only what she said next that hooked him, that made him believe because now she knew that he could believe. She spoke in her familiarly stubborn tone, and Sen relaxed greatly at it, thankful for resolution.

"Don't worry," she said. "He won't get a child. Not from me."

Sayuri didn't get much sleep that night. She never had been able to when anxious, and Sayuri couldn't remember feeling so anxious in her life. Since her room had no windows, Sayuri had to guess when sunrise came from the small amounts of light that peaked through the cracks in her door. She could hear the faint sound of voices mumbling – no doubt the voices of the rest of the crew retelling one another why their lookout was leaving. Sayuri opened her door and light spilled in, stinging her eyes as she did. Someone had left the door to the main deck open.

She picked up her small black bag and took one last turn around her room: It was small, cramped, dark, damp, and smelly, but it had been hers. This ship had been hers, the crew had been hers…and now she had none of it. She had taken this time for granted – she realized that now. Her home, her family, her identity – all were lost because of something she could not control. She cursed her fate, her mother, the hag…

Her thoughts were broken when she felt a cold trickle slide down her cheek and onto her lip. She was surprised at the saltiness and realized that she had been crying. When was the last time she had cried? She couldn't be sure. She hurriedly wiped the tear away and rubbed her eyes, hoping they didn't look too red.

Sayuri slowly made her way on the main deck, and was surprised to see it crowded with men, most of whom looked her way as she surfaced.

Sayuri hated it when a lot of people looked at her.

It was eerily quiet on the deck, which made her question what, if anything, had been said beforehand. She didn't get much of a chance to ask, and no one else really had the chance to tell, for once her gaze met with Zuko's, the Prince wasted no time in departure.

"Let's go," he said, and he turned around swiftly, overconfident that Sayuri would follow.

Yet Sayuri took her time walking through the crowd of temporarily solemn men, her eyes meeting with only Sen's, who gave her a small, encouraging nod.

She couldn't look at her captain.

As she stepped onto the long plank that served as a temporary bridge between the two vessels, she felt a strong grip on her arm which felt less than friendly. Sayuri stopped suddenly and twisted her arm back to break the solder's grip, giving him a fierce look that clearly warned him not to touch her.

The Prince and his uncle had turned around, but the former continued unfazed as soon as Sayuri turned forward again.

Iroh had watched as Sen had taken a protective stepped forward, and saw him stand back once the girl had continued walking. He watched her walk by with her head lifted, and allowed the soldier to pass him as well before he himself followed.

Sayuri resisted the urge to look back. She wanted to, desperately; but she knew she shouldn't. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't stop knowing that each step she took pulled her further and further apart from everything she had ever really cared for.

She didn't even register that she was walking on the firm steel ship or that she was being led inside until well after the doors had closed and any hope for flight was lost.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Just to be safe, this chapter is rated R for sexual content. I recommend, of course, reading the whole thing, but if you don't want to read the slightly graphic part, then just skip the last section. The importance of that part will be referred to in later chapters.

And school is starting again, so I probably won't update for a month. Maybe more. I dunno, I'll try. I know how annoying it is.

Enjoy.

Chapter 7

Sayuri looked about the room to which she had just been escorted, and in which she now stood alone.

She noticed large tapestries hanging on the walls – all of which were of massive black flames, seeming to dance widely on a red background. Several torches, unwisely placed on the walls next to the tapestries, lit the room well enough for her to see a small table in the center. Chairs would have been no use for this table, it was so low. Instead, red cushions were placed at each edge, making the seats seem inviting and comfortable.

Sayuri took a few more steps into the room just as the heavy metal door behind her swung open. She spun around to look at the newly entered Prince, who stood there, looking right back at her, panting lightly, his open palm on the outer side of the door. Upon noticing her notice him, he stood up a little straighter and shut the door behind him, taking a step into the room as he did so.

Sayuri watched the arrogant little boy, whom she loathed more than anything; she felt as though she would like nothing better than to rip his long ponytail off his head and feed it to him.

Zuko watched the stupid little girl in front of him, wild from so long spent at sea, and he knew that he would need to tame her.

Neither knew exactly what to say.

"Nice scar," the Prince finally remarked. Sayuri mentally brought her hand to her cheekbone, where she had fallen when she was younger and just learning to climb the series of ropes which held the sails to the masts. Her foot had tangled in the rigging and she had lost her balance, falling backwards and striking the side of her face against the mast while hanging with her head aimed at the main deck. A thin white line ran diagonally across a small part of her face as a reminder of Sayuri's once young and naïve carelessness.

"I could say the same to you," she answered, referring to the bright red and wrinkled skin around his left eye, which, Sayuri noticed, made him look much older that he actually was.

Zuko didn't like to think about his scar's history.

It was silent again, but neither pair of eyes would look away before the other. Sayuri stumbled in her mind to phrase her thoughts correctly into a question. "Why did you bring me here?"

She saw the look on the Prince's face morph into a suspicious confusion and she regretted her phrasing even before he could answer. "For your son."

"Why?" She repeated. "Why do you need my son?" She was irritated, and it was evident in her tone.

He seemed taken aback, as if unprepared for such a question. Sayuri watched as he slowly made his way over to one of the swirling fires of the wall hangings, her skin crawling as he crossed her path. She would have like nothing more than for the insignia on the cloth to come alive and engulf her captor – or even if it just fell of off its hanging and hit him on the head – but she just stood there helplessly and jumped slightly when he suddenly responded.

"My father has sent me on a mission," he began, slowly pacing in front of the tapestry. "I must search for the Avatar." She mentally noted how he had left out the part about his banishment. "However, the Avatar has been in hiding for a hundred years, and there is no certainty that I will be able to find him. If such an even were to occur, I would need a back-up plan. Collateral." He turned to face her. "That is where you come in." He took a few steps towards her, but Sayuri stayed her ground. "If I am somehow unable to find the Avatar, who better than to reclaim my honor for me than my own son? A son more powerful than I could ever be…" Somehow he was now barely a foot away. "Your position guarantees that."

Sayuri thought quickly. "You don't know that the Avatar will resurface in his lifetime – or at all. You don't know that he will be able to catch him either. My son wouldn't be – he couldn't be greater than the Avatar."

The Prince turned away from her again. "You don't know that for certain."

Sayuri was glad that she had found a flaw on which even he had doubts. "Oh, don't I?" For a second, she thought she heard the Prince stopped breathing, but she ignored it. "I will bear a mortal – for I am only mortal myself. You of all people should know that the Avatar is beyond mortality." She saw that his posture had changed: his shoulders were back and his spine was more erect. She felt like toying with him. "Even if none of that mattered, I would never give you a son."

The Prince spun around; he looked almost amused. "You think you have a choice?"

She was enjoying this. "Of course I do." She smirked almost invisibly, but just enough so that the Prince could see it. She walked passed the Prince to the tapestry he had been looking at, and pretended to examine it. "You think that you can kidnap me, force yourself on me, and get my child?" She tisked. "It doesn't quite work that way."

She knew nothing of tapestries and couldn't appreciate the mediocre work which had gone into the piece before her, and yet she studied it, and hoped that she seemed convincing.

"And why not?"

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Because," she started, turning to face him, "I can't just conceive for any man –" (she considered adding 'or boy', but thought better of it) "– there are conditions. A loophole, if you will, to protect me from the greedy, those who are only after power and glory." She looked right at the Prince as she said this, and it grazed his pride, but not so Sayuri could tell.

"What conditions?" he asked, and though he tried to mask it, Sayuri had noticed that small amount of frustration in his tone.

She couldn't suppress a smirk. "The curse is triggered by my marriage – I can't conceive as a maiden." She watched as the Prince opened and close his mouth as she continued to speak. "And I can only marry under one of two conditions: The first being that my father gives me away – and he's been dead for years. The second…" She paused, just for dramatic effect, "…is that I fall in love."

She was making all of this up, of course. There wasn't even a possibility that anything she was saying could be true. But she couldn't allowed herself to be so vulnerable – and if this boy took such great action after hearing one farfetched tale, then there was a chance that he would undo such an action after hearing another.

As least, Sayuri hoped he would.

She couldn't tell whether he bought her heap of lies or not, for she soon realized that he was skilled in hiding his thoughts. He merely looked at her, unreadable and unmoving, and it forced Sayuri to turn back to her pseudo-examination of the tapestry; although she was able to keep the smirk on her face.

A prominent knock on the door made both of the snap their head in its direction, but the Prince moved to open it before any sort of awkward moment could set in.

A soldier stood outside the door and addressed the Prince formally, after which Sayuri could hear no more, as both the Prince and his soldier dropped their voices.

Sayuri pretended not to care.

The Prince cleared his throat and turned to face her. "This man will show you to your quarters," he said, stepping away from the door to let Sayuri by.

This was not quite was Sayuri was expecting, and yet she could not think of anything to say on the matter. And so, she said nothing to the Prince, and he said nothing to her as she followed the iron-clad soldier out.

Down the hallway and three doors on the left, the soldier had left Sayuri alone in this unfamiliar space.

The color scheme of her room was (not surprisingly) red and black. The cold steel floor was almost mostly covered by a deep red rug, which matched the red on the tapestries hanging on each wall – the same sort of fiery tapestries which hung on the walls of the previous room.

In one of the corners rested a simple chest, made of the same type of wood as the small table a few feet in front of it. The table was quite short – maybe a foot and a half above the ground – and had four candle holders with stubs of what could have once been candles stuck inside them. Her bed lay in the corner, facing the chest from the opposite side of the room.

Sayuri found her bag on the bed – she hadn't remembered bringing it with her after taking it out of her room…when was it taken from her? – and took out four of the candles she had packed, placing one in each candle holder, after taking out the old, almost non-existent ones with some difficulty and putting them aside. She lit the candles and closed the door, which she had found odd that the guard had left open.

Sayuri was now alone, in her new bedroom, with the door closed. And she wasn't sure what to do next.

She couldn't very well leave – she really wasn't sure where she could go, or how she could get there – then again, was she really just supposed to stay here and do nothing?

She closed her eyes and tried to think, and then suddenly found that doing so felt rather good. It made sense, of course, that she would be tired – she hadn't really slept the previous night, after all. So Sayuri moved her way over to the bed, which looked much softer than what she was used to. But as she sat down, her torso seemed to melt into the mattress, which then invited her shoulders, her neck, and at last, her head to join them, her eyes closing and welcoming the much-needed slumber.

She awoke, dazed, to the sound of a loud squeak. Her eyes unwillingly opened, and turning her head, Sayuri saw that her door had opened, and that the Fire Prince stood in its threshold.

"What time is it?" She asked sleepily, her speech slightly slurred.

"Near midnight," he said, closing the door as he stepped further into the room. "You missed dinner."

"Well, thanks for telling me, " she replied scarcastically, now a little more awake. She watched the Prince as he refused to meet her eyes, and just as she was about to ask what he wanted, he turned away from her and brought his hands just below his neck. He was fiddling with something, and Sayuri narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked quickly.

He didn't even turn his head. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your clothes," he repeated, not pausing the unbuttoning of his shirt.

Sayuri didn't move. She wasn't sure what to do, so she said the only thing she could think of: "I told you, it doesn't work that way."

He didn't respond as he took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He turned to face her, and at seeing she had not moved, he frowned. The well-developed and sculpted muscles of his arms, chest, and back forced him to stand straight, his elbows bent slightly as they hung, taut and tense, by his sides.

Sayuri licked her lips, a new sort of fear overwhelming her. "Get out," she ordered quietly. He took a step closer. "Get out," she said more forcefully, her feelings of terror instinctively made her voice take on a dangerous quality which she consciously knew behind which she had nothing.

Whether the Prince knew this or not, Sayuri couldn't tell as he continued to advance on her. She realized that she was still on her bed, waiting for him like a sitting duck, and quickly rose, but found herself just as quickly back on the mattress as the Prince forced her down. He held her down with his hands on her shoulders and knees on her thighs, roughly, painfully, and effectively pinning her. His head lowered and he began to kiss her where her chin met with her neck – hard, dry, passionless kisses which disgusted Sayuri more than terrified her.

She felt awkward lying there, and began to squirm, but she was held tight, unable to move her torso. Then she felt one of his legs let up from her thigh – which screamed with delight, newly released from pain of its weight – and nudge its way in between her legs, forcing them apart. Sayuri's eyes grew wide as the awkwardness left her and seething rage replaced it. Then she did the only thing she was able to do.

She punched him.

It was an awkward angle to punch at, considering his head was barely above her chest and his strong arm made it so that her shoulder could barely move, but she was satisfied with the hard blow she delivered to the back of his head, making her knuckles throb after doing so.

The Prince let out a grunt, having been completely caught off guard and he stopped what he was doing, taking a moment to release one of his hands and bring it to where Sayuri had hit him. His face contorted into an annoyed scowl – which looked menacing to Sayuri, more than anything – and, as if needing to regain control, struck her with the back of his hand.

Sayuri's head snapped to the side, and stayed there for a moment too long, for the Prince merely picked up where he left off – continuing to press his mouth to her neck and force her legs apart with his own.

Sayuri couldn't believe what he was doing. She went wild: squirming, thrashing, her arms flailing, her legs kicking, every now and then, releasing orders of 'get off of me', 'stop', and 'get off'. It was difficult to say the least, for it was taking all of her strength to wriggle out of his grasp to attack, and he had the same number of limbs to fight back as she did. This went on for a few precious seconds, during which time Sayuri only half succeeded because she was fighting as if her life depended on it – which, in a sense, it did.

Finally, Zuko regained control, with either of his hands gripping her just above the elbows, so her forearms flailed in a vain attempt to strike him, and with his thighs pressed against her own, which were now straddled from trying to break free. He was unfamiliar with what he was feeling now; but he liked it. He liked that she had fought back, he liked that she had hit him, that he could still feel where she had hit him; he like that she had almost gotten away from him, that he had caught her, that he had won.

It was new to him. And it was exciting.

Sayuri didn't like the look in his eyes. He leaned down again, with new motivation, and she felt it on her thigh. It pressed against her, painfully, and the pain escaped through her lips; but it seemed only to encourage him, and the pressure on her thighs from his three lower appendages became more intense, and Sayuri couldn't contain herself any longer. The pain was so intense, and she was so helpless, so terrified. She felt her eyes grow wet and cursed herself.

"Please," she pleaded, barely whispering. "Please."

The pressure eased as he sat up to look at her. Here eyes were tightly shut, but tears still seemed to diffuse through them. Her breaths were deep and shaking, and he could tell that sobs were only moments away.

"Please stop," she cried again. She felt limp, almost lifeless under him, as if she had given up the fight. His excitement faded.

Silently, he dismounted her, rising to his feet and picking up his shirt from the floor.

If she had just continued fighting, if she had kept that stubborn, hateful look in her eyes, he would have been able to keep going. He had mastered her, yes – but he wanted to stay the master, remain the stronger – he needed her to fight him.

But she had cried. She had pleaded. Yes, he could have refused her pleas, but then it wouldn't have counted. Conquering the helpless was no challenge; it was not exciting; it was not honorable. Only weak men conquer those weaker than themselves, and he was not weak. He was honorable for not taking her, even though he could have easily.

He was still pondering these thoughts as he buttoned his shirt, barely aware that Sayuri was watching him with labored breaths. And he was still telling himself these things as he left her room, closing the heavy iron door behind him and trying not to think about how much her tears had really gotten to him.


End file.
